


A Flickering of Ruin

by orphan_account



Category: Journey (Video Game 2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22454521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Not knowing someone's name does not mean you can't still enjoy the end of the world with them.
Kudos: 19





	A Flickering of Ruin

The traveler drives through the citadel with labored breath, her cloak wrapped tightly around her feeble frame, obscuring all but her eyes. In the midst of a coughing fit, her footprints are buried by a sandstorm roaring in from beyond a blurred out horizon accented in oranges and purples. Be it out of passing boredom or trained meditation, the traveler counts each of the stairs as she climbs a tower leading up to the heavens. When the stairs cease before a bridge guarded by a statue, she then begins counting the lines of the bridge's tiles and framework.

_'Step on a crack, break your mother's back. Step on a line, break your father's spine'._

It was an ominous phrase, particularly for Rythulians. When a member of the tribe passes, it is said that their soul will become one with the earth. Ancient monuments scattered across the desert were rumored to have been made in memory of loved ones - there was a magic to them that rendered them as honorable as the people they were originally inspired by. To believe in something is to give it life; even something as seemingly insignificant as a humble little rock can be given the power over one's heart. Of course for it to claim any dominion over you, you must hand over the power willingly. In the eyes of the tribe the mirages of friends are as real as the friends themselves and here at the end of the world where once vibrant cities have been reduced to empty ruins, stepping on a crack or line really did risk bringing harm to your loved ones. A single wrong move could send vibrations through a fragile floor and send both a monument and yourself tumbling into a bottomless chasm of hopelessness.

The setting sun is hot on her back but the desert air has already begun to cool as the night hours approach. The traveler suddenly narrows her gaze at an intrusive shadow looming over the 786th line. She looks up and is surprised to see another Rythulian watching her from the other side. There weren't many of their kind left and the desert stretched for countless miles; to be graced with company was a rare treat indeed.

He was dressed in white, juxtaposing sharply to her red. Neither speaks aloud but even if either had, their words would have been muffled by the wind. Tilting his head as if studying the traveler, after a moment he steps forward, gingerly and with care to avoid the last line. Gliding past her, the Rythulian dances over the tiles without hitting any of lines separating the bridge's tiles. The way he moves perfectly syncs with how she had walked over the bridge herself and she wonders how long he has been watching her for.

It was an odd game of hopscotch made all the odder with a second player. She calls out to him as he strays farther away but the Rythulian gradually disappears into the blanketing darkness of the sandstorm. When the clouds of dust finally blow over the bridge, he is gone. In his wake, the statue remains but the traveler could have sworn that it had been facing the other direction before she'd crossed the bridge.


End file.
